Knock…
The moment Hagrid rapped on the castle doors, they swung wide open.
Professor McGonagall, who came to greet the first-year students, was a witch with an air of stern authority.
She wore a deep emerald-green robe, stood tall, and had her black hair pulled back tightly into a neat bun.
After Hagrid exchanged greetings with Professor McGonagall and handed over the first-years, he took his leave.
The grand doors opened fully, and Professor McGonagall led everyone inside.
Leon noticed that the castle's entrance hall was massive, almost like Gringotts.
The ceiling soared high, giving the space an impressive, majestic feel.
Flaming torches lined the walls on both sides, casting a warm glow that lit up the entire hall.
Directly opposite the entrance was a wide, luxurious marble staircase.
They wouldn't be heading there just yet.
Professor McGonagall's presence was commanding.
The chatty first-years, who had been buzzing with excitement, fell silent under her piercing gaze, barely daring to breathe.
McGonagall scanned the new students, noting with satisfaction that they were as well-behaved as previous years.
With a nod, she said, "Follow me," and strode forward.
The group shuffled along behind her, keeping pace.
As they passed the Great Hall's doors on the right, they could hear a lively hum of voices through the gaps.
But Professor McGonagall didn't lead them inside.
Instead, she took the first-years to a small room off the entrance hall.
The room was tiny, and once all the first-years filed in, it felt packed to the brim, with everyone standing shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, waiting for Professor McGonagall to speak.
Her voice brimmed with pride and warmth. "Welcome to Hogwarts!"
She looked around at the group.
"I know it sounds like boasting, but I must say—you're incredibly fortunate to be here at Hogwarts, stepping onto the path of magic!
"Before we begin, you'll take part in a very important ceremony: the Sorting, which will determine your house.
"Those houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.
"This will decide who your companions will be for the next seven years, where you'll live in the dormitories, and which common room you'll use in your free time.
"Don't think the Sorting is a small matter. Each house has its own history and pride, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.
"While you're here, your house will be your family, and your housemates will be your kin."
"Your actions will affect your house. Do well, and you'll earn points. Break the rules, and points will be taken away.
"At the end of each school year, the house with the highest points will win the House Cup—a great honor for all students and alumni of that house. No matter which house you're sorted into, I hope you'll do your best to bring glory to it."
After finishing her speech, Professor McGonagall gave the group another stern look and added, "Now, you have a few minutes to tidy yourselves up and prepare for the Sorting Ceremony.
"I'll return shortly to take you to the Great Hall for the official Sorting."
Once she left the room, the first-years finally dared to breathe properly again.
The tiny room erupted into a chorus of excited chatter.
Leon nudged Ginny, who still looked a bit dazed.
"Has your family told you anything about the Sorting Ceremony?"
Ginny's expression shifted, cycling through fear, confusion, and doubt.
"They have," she said, puzzled. "But the problem is, everyone said something different."
She counted off on her fingers.
"Fred said to get into Gryffindor, you have to pluck a hair from a troll's nose.
"George said it's simple—you draw a tarot card, and whichever one you get decides your house.
"Ron said you have to ride a dragon to test your courage. The first to fall off goes to Slytherin, those whose hair gets singed go to Hufflepuff, those who complete one lap safely go to Ravenclaw, and only those who manage two laps get into Gryffindor.
"Mum and Dad said the same thing: you have to duel a ferocious magical creature, and they sort you based on how you do.
"Dad said in their year, they had to fight a Diricawl. So, that year, hardly anyone made it into Gryffindor…
"I think they're exaggerating—or just messing with me."
Ginny glanced at Luna, who was standing on Leon's other side, and asked, "Luna, did your parents tell you anything about how the Sorting works?
"Our family's all Gryffindor, and yours are all Ravenclaw. Do you think the Sorting process or criteria are different for each house?"
Luna, who usually had a dreamy, distracted look, appeared unusually serious.
She nodded, her carrot-shaped earrings swaying.
"Yes, my dad said that to get into Ravenclaw, you need to have a special kind of vision. Those without it go to the other houses. Gryffindors are especially…"
Luna stopped abruptly, holding back her words.
Leon listened with curiosity.
Given Luna's blunt nature, whatever she didn't say must have been pretty offensive.
He was dying to know what it was.
Unable to resist, Leon lightly tapped into Luna's thoughts.
"…a bunch of baboons in wizard robes."
As they were deep in discussion, a few first-years suddenly screamed, "Aaaah! Ghosts!"
Everyone whipped around.
From the wall behind them, dozens of ghosts glided in silently, without warning.
Most were pearly white or milky, semi-transparent.
There were so many that the room's temperature dropped a few degrees as they entered.
The students shivered, eyeing the unexpected (or perhaps not-so-unexpected) intruders warily.
A plump, friendly-looking ghost dressed as a monk seemed to notice the humans for the first time.
"Well, look at that! First-years! Are you all gathered here for the Sorting?"
The nearest students nodded nervously.
The chubby ghost, beaming, said, "Wonderful! I hope you'll end up in Hufflepuff! I'm the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff's ghost."
He gave a playful twist of what might have been his waist.
"Hufflepuff's got the best vibe! It's the perfect place for young witches and wizards to grow!"
The other ghosts, watching the Fat Friar enthusiastically promote his house, had varied reactions—eye-rolling, lip-curling, shoulder-shrugging, and head-shaking.
One ghost even shook his head so hard it fell off his neck…
Thankfully, Professor McGonagall returned.
"First-years, form a single line. No whispering. Follow me."
The tense atmosphere returned, silencing everyone.
Even Leon, who knew what to expect, felt the weight of it.
He stood carefully in line behind Ginny and in front of Luna, following Professor McGonagall in silence.
He even noticed a few students walking so nervously they got their steps all wrong.
Creak…
The doors opened.
A magnificent, dreamlike Great Hall appeared before them.
The ceiling shimmered like a starry velvet sky, adorned with massive red, blue, yellow, and green banners. Countless candles floated in midair, four long tables stretched across the hall, and curious faces of older students turned to watch.
Hogwarts, I'm here! Leon thought to himself.
He took in every detail.
He noticed a greasy-haired man with a center part at the staff table, his face crumpling the moment their eyes met.
He saw a golden-haired boy with a wide, toothy grin, looking like the village idiot.
He spotted Aunt Sybill, who he'd tricked countless times but who still adored him, rolling her eyes behind her glasses—definitely not at him.
And he saw the white-bearded old man in the center, his gaze peering over half-moon spectacles, watching the approaching first-years from above his interlaced fingers.
A spark of inspiration flashed through Leon's mind.
It was so quick he couldn't quite grasp it…
The first-years lined up horizontally, facing the older students, with their backs to the head table.
Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool and the Sorting Hat in front.
The Sorting Hat began its annual song.
Leon was still chasing that fleeting spark of inspiration…
McGonagall unfurled a parchment scroll.
Leon felt he was onto something…
"Hambo Aina!"
Leon finally got it!